


Wisdom of the Soul

by Mega_Erofan



Category: AFK Arena (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Contest Entry, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24028111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mega_Erofan/pseuds/Mega_Erofan
Summary: During a quiet day in the Graveborn camp, Kelthur is approached by the normally reclusive and quiet Ferael and asks for the two to speak alone about a few things. Kelthur assumes it’s a critique involving his fighting style since he noticed him watching him spar earlier, but the conversation turns into something more meaningful than simply combat advice.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Wisdom of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the AFK Arena 1 Year Anniversary Reddit Fanfiction contest

The Graveborn Camp was fairly quiet today, no foot soldiers rushing about in preparation for battle or healers scurrying between tents to tend to the wounded and ill. It was calm, peaceful, a rarity during the tides of conflict and tension between them and the Lightbearer army as of late. Most were likely enjoying the peace, but not Kelthur, who had taken his spot to watch over the camp from atop a hillside near the camp. While the rest slept through the peaceful, quiet morning, Kelthur was up to spare with the few others that bothered to be awake and about that day, including Thoran's lapdog Grezhul. He wasn't a bad man or warrior, Kelthur enjoyed the challenge the other posed even during lighthearted sparring, but his loyalty to the crazed king is what held the undead knight back from true strength. It's hard to grow while under another man's boot, after all.

Kelthur had many questions behind the various motives that pushed his fellow Graveborn to join in the fight over the region's various disputes. Some had viable reasons, such as Isabella and Silvina, and others fought to retain a purpose or interest in their undead lives, like Nara and Baden. It was the more emotionally rooted motives that made him question things; Shemira's desire to protect her undead boy, Grezhul's vow to protect his king at all costs, Oden's hunger, and Izold's desire for honorable battle. All rubbish. Yet, among all of that, the motives of one always remained evasive even to the wisest and observant among the Graveborn: Ferael. No one could read the undead archer's motives for battle or life, offering vaguely repetitive responses or half-caring shrugs as answers. He was the one puzzle no one could solve, the mystery no one has been able to crack despite the best efforts of many. And Kelthur wasn't sure why that bothered him so much. It shouldn't, but it does, to the pit of his rotting soul.

So deep in his thoughts, Kelthur didn't perceive the quiet footsteps of an approaching figure from the camp until the other is already upon him. His instincts kick in once he perceived the presence, summoning his weapon and moving to attack but was stopped by something pushing back against the blade, looking up to find a familiar bow. He sighed quietly before his weapon dropped, turning his head away as the archer spoke.

"A bit distracted, were we?"

Kelthur quietly huffed as he returned his gaze to the camp, not truly watching it at this point but hoping the other might assume otherwise and leave him be. He's thwarted when his visitor instead gracefully and swiftly sat in the grass near his resting point.

"What do you want, Ferael?" Kelthur grumbled, clearly in no mood to entertain or converse.

“I noticed you’ve seemed a bit preoccupied lately, especially this morning,” Ferael commented, glancing over to Kelthur. “Something weighs on your mind.”

“You mean aside from the battles and bloodshed that accompany war?” Kelthur hummed. “Because they don’t, none of it does.”

“No, of course not.” Ferael chuckled, a noise unusual to the former prince as he cautiously glanced toward him. “This is more...personal.” He stated carefully. Kelthur huffed in response, conveying an unimpressed aura. “I know you aren’t one to talk about such, but I’m certain you can be bothered to listen at the very least.” Kelthur quietly studied Ferael for a minute, contemplating the supposed offer before simply shrugging as he glanced away. “I’ll take that as a “yes”.” The archer hummed.

"I observed your sparring match with Grezhul earlier. Quite the display." He murmured pleasantly. "Such power and technique between you two, like a pair of wolves fighting for pack leader." Kelthur smirked a bit at this, mildly proud of the attention his fighting prowess earned him, even among his peers. "But-" The archer cuts in. "-there is something unusual in your mentality as a soldier."

Kelthur glanced at Ferael questionably. "...Unusual?"

"Yes, you know? Odd, offbeat, outlandish, peculiar, diff-"

"I know what it means." Kelthur growled through his teeth mildly. "I more question the implication of the term."

"Right," Ferael sighed. "You have this...fixation on winning the fight, even when the fight means little to begin with. I only noticed this because of your distaste in 'losing' your match against Grezhul earlier."

"...what distaste?" Kelthur muttered, obviously feigning his ignorance.

"Your pouting afterward and lashing at the practice dummies for a solid hour before storming off out of the camp." Ferael elaborated.

"I don't pout," Kelthur grumbled. "Only brats pout. I'm no brat."

"You're the youngest among us currently, Kelthur. You technically are." Ferael corrected. Kelthur quietly huffed in response as it grew quiet between the two for a moment. "...there's more to fights than winning, you know."

"Says you," Kelthur muttered. "My father raised me to be top-notch, that one only improves as a warrior with their victories and their dedication to training."

"...have you ever considered such a view to be flawed?" Ferael asked. Kelthur sharply glared at the other, who was paying no mind to the other. "A warrior grows from all aspects of battle, just as a child grows when exposed to all aspects of life. Is a child not limited if they aren't taught the basics of knowledge, the simplicities of wisdom, experience the world as it is, and grow alongside it?" Ferael's gaze shifted to Kelthur finally, looking the warrior in the eye. "Would you be the man you are today if you saw it as narrowly while living as you do in your undeath?"

Kelthur opened his mouth to respond, but no words came to form, stopping short in his throat to never touch his tongue. He didn't wish to admit it aloud, but the archer did speak some sense. Without his father's teachings and his private schooling in the manor, he wouldn't have become the warrior he was before his life was cut short by betrayal. His entire life up to that point was lovingly nourished with education and practical training through his childhood. How could he deny that?

"No smart response?" Ferael hummed in amusement, earning a mild pout and glare from Kelthur.

"I...suppose your words...do bear some truth." Kelthur admitted. "But, if not through victories and training, how does a warrior improve in a world rife with conflict?"

"Simply, it's two things." Ferael hummed. "The wisdom earned from all battles whether won or lost and the ability to put the group before yourself."

"Excuse me?" Kelthur muttered.

"You heard me." Ferael retorted. "A warrior always grows after a battle, but they don't always have to win. A loss can bear just as much wisdom and knowledge as any victory can, if not more so. It exposes the weaknesses and flaws in one's ability and techniques, allowing them to learn and improve."

"That...makes sense, but...putting the group before oneself? Wouldn't that put one at the most risk?" Kelthur inquired, his focus now fully on the archer.

"Actually, no." Ferael chuckled. "In fact, when one is selfish in battle, it not only puts the warrior at risk but the group that is supporting and watching the back of the warrior. If a General charges into battle without telling his army of the impending battle, his army would be slaughtered. No?"

"Why would a General lead his army into such a situation in the first place?" Kelthur asked.

"Even the highest ranks in an army are weak to the allure of pride and greed even in times of war," Ferael explained. "And, as you know personally, nobles are just as vulnerable, if not more so." Kelthur grew quiet at this, his expression souring at the memory of his stepmother. "Why allow your view of growth to be a narrow as hers? You wish to be better and reclaim your home someday, yes?" Kelthur sullenly nodded. "Then stop thinking of growth as a result of success, think the other way around instead." Ferael hummed then stood, making his way back to the camp.

"Why bother coming up to tell me all of this?" Kelthur asked, staring at the archer.

Ferael slowly turned back to Kelthur, hesitating before slowly lifting his mask to look Kelthur in the eye unobscured. "You have the best chance of achieving your goal and finding peace. I'd rather you not sully it by being short-sighted by your own ignorance." He firmly stated, then pulled his mask down again and started back for the camp again.

Kelthur quietly watched him go before sighing and standing himself, giving chase to the other. "Ferael," The archer stopped and glanced over his shoulder again. "Could you...teach me how?"

"How to what?" Ferael hummed curiously.

"How to see things like you do…"

Ferael frowned for a moment, then calmly sighs. "Are you sure you're willing to undertake that?" Kelthur firmly nodded. "Alright, come along then. First lesson starts in the sparring field."

Kelthur nodded again and followed close behind the archer, eager to not only expand his view and growth as a warrior, but to try and finally begin to understand the enigmatic archer that might soon be his friend...he hopes.


End file.
